


Masterpiece

by ForbiddenToast



Series: The Couple On The Third Floor [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:52:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForbiddenToast/pseuds/ForbiddenToast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete tried to create masterpieces for his classes, but he knew the real work of art was the person curled up around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

> This may or may not be a series I'll do after my exams (School's killing me. Seriously.).  
> To be honest I genuinely have no clue what this is, but if I do continue there's a 98% chance it'll just be full of fluff and cute little things since I'm a sucker for that stuff.
> 
> Feedback is also really appreciated and I hope you enjoy whatever the hell this is.

Pete was deeply in love and he was one hundred percent sure his art professor knew this.

The usual dark nature of his paintings had turned slightly upbeat with the use of brighter shades of reds, greens and he even used black a little less often. Instead opting to use greys and other colours, and his grades were getting better by the week.

Last semester he had rushed to get an essay done on how artists exposed themselves through their works; may it have been through that duller shade of pink, the harshness of the brush strokes or even with the very subject of what they were painting. Pete _knew_ he was exposing himself a lot through his paintings recently but that was okay, _that was good_ in Pete’s opinion, because before he met Patrick his work had been standard, thought-provoking and pretty enough to look at -  now it had purpose or direction or some sophisticated terminology his teacher would probably explain to the class eventually.

He’d been getting more and more inspired since bumping into the music student on the third floor at the start of last year and he was loving every second of it.

 

Often when he swirled red onto a canvas Pete thought about _his_ hair before _he_ dyed it blond, thought about _his_ eyes when he had to mix greens, blues and yellows together and he was also reminded of how pale _his_ skin was by the white canvas he was covering.

Bacically, Pete was _really_ in love with the person living in the room across the hall, and judging by the music that drifted under the door Patrick was really in love with him to.

They had quickly become known as _“That artistic couple on floor three”_ amongst the others living in the college’s accommodation and the first time Pete heard it the drawing he had been working on had been a huge hit with his professor who gave him a knowing look when he seen the wilted flowers in black and white with a single orange tulip in the centre.

 

By the time summer came around Pete had never been happier or more creative, still getting up in the mornings to go and paint something even though classes wouldn’t be on for another two weeks. It gave him time to think and kept his mind at bay.

Patrick had also asked for a variation of the flower painting he had done for his room across the hall, and Pete was trying to get it perfect since in exchange for the piece (after some haggling on Pete’s part) Patrick would let Pete hear him sing properly and not just from the shower like he often did.

 

It was one morning when Pete was painting, sipping on his coffee to try and get rid of his headache when two warm arms landed on his shoulder and he seen a tuff of blond hair out of the corner of his eye.

“What’re you doin’ up?” Patrick mumbled around a yawn, staring at the mass of oranges and yellows.

Dropping his paintbrush and mug Pete shrugged. “Inspired y’know?” Giving a knowing hum Patrick set his chin on top of Pete’s messy bed head. “What are you doing up anyway?”

Hearing the muffled “Wondered where you were.”  Pete could almost see Patrick blinking to try and get some of the sleep out of his eyes, like he did every morning – and he couldn’t help but smile at that.

Scooting back on his chair he motioned toward his pyjama covered lap and Patrick took no time to sleepily place himself in it, and not for the first time Pete wondered what was the point in even painting. His messy horizon didn’t even come close to Patrick in the mornings; with Pete’s shirt on, bleary eyes and ruffled bed hair which stuck out in every direction. 

Pete tried to create masterpieces for his classes, but he knew the real work of art was the person curled up around him.

The calm in the small room was nice, and Pete knew he would get inspired again to eventually finish the painting in front of them. But for now he just wanted to relax for a moment and breathe in the quiet, away from finals and those house parties the guys on floor seven always had on Fridays. The same parties Pete and Patrick usually got slightly too drunk at and stumbled into Patrick’s room  (it was closer to the stairs) from, tangled in each other only to wake up the next morning hissing at the sun and eating leftover pizza.

“You doing anything later?” Pete finally quizzed when Patrick nosed at his neck, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Cause I was thinking-“

“That’s new.” Patrick quipped.

 _“Anyway,”_ He continued, “Since the lecture halls aren’t being used how about we go watch a film or something on the projectors with Gee, Bren and what’s-her-face?”

“You mean Hayley?”

Shrugging he wrapped his arms around Patrick to support him a bit more. “She’s the one from ten with the awesome hair right?”

Scoffing Patrick leant against Pete even more if that was possible and sighed. “You just want hair tips don’t you? But sure, it’s a date.”

Drawing a circle with his index finger into Patrick’s thigh he picked up his paintbrush again and started to paint on the canvas again with the masterpiece that was his boyfriend still sitting sleepily in his lap.


End file.
